Undertaking
by Kayka
Summary: Who needs a knight in shining armor when one has a king in glittery hot-pants? On second thought, what Sarah probably needs is an aspirin. J/S Pre-romance Two-shot. Surprisingly, a proper (not-crack) story.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:** Not mine; just taking the characters out for a spin. I'll return them safe and sound. Mostly. Probably. Maybe. If they're lucky.

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**Undertaking: Part I  
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Upon opening her bedroom door after a wonderful day, Sarah Williams promptly spun on her heel and slammed the aforementioned door behind her. It was a bit unfair to the door, really, as it was not the door itself that was the source of her disapproval.

Her course redirected toward her kitchen, Sarah decided to pretend that the reason for her impending overindulgence in ice cream and comfort food did not exist. She also decided to ignore the fact that she had just received an eyeful of- well… She chose not to dwell, and therefore, it was all she could think about. '_Ice cream,_' she thought forcefully. Ice cream was a wonderful idea. She contemplated a getting a bowl.

Sarah liked to think herself inured the Goblin King's eccentric attire- when she thought back to it, which she never did, ever, at all- but_ this_ was beyond the pale.

'_Oh, screw it.'_ She grabbed the tub from the freezer and plunked down at the table.

Viciously stabbing a spoon into the confection, Sarah redirected her attention and ruminated on her _problem_ rather than the _cause_.

Up to the present, her day had been perfect. Serendipitously perfect. This really should have really been her first clue that something was catastrophically wrong. This particular calendar date _never _went well. In fact, it typically went to hell in a hand basket before she could even manage to poke a toe out of bed.

But this year was different. This year she had had the perfect day.

And now, for cheating her fate, she apparently had to answer to a Goblin King.

A scantily clad Goblin King.

A scantily clad Goblin King wearing nothing but sparkly hot-pants that had taken it upon himself to mosey on into the kitchen to better torment her.

For some reason the idea of the Goblin King 'moseying' anywhere resulted in an absurd mental depravity involving cowboy boots and a bull whip. Appetite turned, as that was her story and she was sticking to it, she abandoned her spoon in the incongruity of it all.

'_Well, if Jareth were a cowboy, at least he'd be wearing clothes. Probably. I definitely need to look into therapy after this._' He took a seat and Sarah resolved to keep her gaze at eye-level.

"You're terribly rude, you know." He announced conversationally, as he captured her neglected spoon and helped himself to her ice cream.

"After all the trouble I've gone through for you, not even a 'Good evening, Jareth, it's so wonderful to see you!'" His voice pitched in a horrible approximation of her own toward the end, and Sarah rolled her eyes.

"_I'm _rude? Do you see- _actually see_ what you're wearing? It's- it's indecent!"

He glanced down at himself and then back to her, unable or unwilling to mask his amusement at her discomfiture. "I rather think it brings out my eyes."

It did no such thing. The only effect his attire could have on anyone's eyes would be to direct others' attention downward.

"Why, Sarah-darling, do you find my attire _distracting_?"

He batted his eyelashes. He_ batted _his _eyelashes_.

"Hmm." He tapped the spoon against his chin. "That was rather the point, but do try to keep your attention on the matter at hand."

'_He just admitted to being purposefully infuriating_.' Sarah ground her molars together, to prevent herself from snapping. Completely, anyway.

"_What._ Do. You. Want?"

He waved the spoon dismissively.

"Oh, a trifle, really. I merely wanted to ask you about your day."

"Right. Because that makes complete and total sense."

He grinned at her obvious ire. He had taken to twirling the spoon idly through his fingers.

"I'm so glad you agree, and now, please allow me to ask. How, _precisely_, was your day, Sarah?" For her part, Sarah didn't appreciate the tone he adopted. "Everything you could have _wished_ for?"

Sarah, gasped, affronted at his insinuation; she avoided wishes like goblins avoid bath time. "_I_ didn't _wish _for anything."

The spoon disappeared and Jareth regarded her intently.

"Perhaps you didn't use your words," he conceded after a moment, "It has been so, in ages past, that powerful wishes do not necessarily require words to direct them. Though I assure you, Precious, that you most certainly did make a wish this morning."

Her hackles raised.

"_And_? Let me guess, you so very generously chose to grant this supposed wish?"

His lips quirked and showed a glimpse of sharp, pointy teeth. Sarah's hackles raised higher.

"Mmm. Close, but no cigar."

Sarah rapidly decided that it was not worth the mental anguish she would suffer getting him to elaborate. She was developing a stress twitch, and if she actually wasn't, she would be soon.

"Well, you asked your question, now leave. Please," she added as an afterthought.

"Ah yes, I did pose my question, but you did not deign to respond. Unfortunately, I require an answer, ergo, my business is unfinished."

"Fine. It was great. Best day I've had in ages. 'Til the most recent five minutes, anyway. Now, go."

"I'm afraid that would be quite counterproductive to my plans," he declared, suddenly serious.

The cold tingle of dread trickled down her spine.

"And what plans are those?"

"Why, to rescue you, of course."

Sarah laughed; she couldn't help it. '_Rescue me? From what, the best day I've had in years?_'

"Well," she started after catching her breath, "if _you're _playing the hero, then I'm doomed."

She chanced a glimpse up only to find his expression grave.

"Perhaps," he inclined.

The dread was back. These rapid fluctuations in mood could not be at all healthy.

"Regardless, you've been left to your own devices for far too many years. I thought that, perhaps-" he seemed to change his mind about what he wanted to say, "You tampered with Fate today, and balance must be restored."

"_Excuse_ me, fate? What are you talking about?"

"You've fallen through the cracks, Sarah Williams." His head tilted a bit as he arched a brow. "Surely, you must have noticed."

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**A/N:** Part 2 will be up after Thanksgiving!


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N:** I apologize for this taking so long. My living situation for the past couple of months was the opposite of being conducive to writing, even for things that were already mostly written.

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**Undertaking: Part II**

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"As you can see it's fully furnished. Great neighborhood. Bedroom's this way."

The door opened and Sarah William's landlord looked straight at her. His eyes slid away from her like oil on a hot griddle.

"It's quite spacious. Walk in closet, to boot."

"It looks like the last tenant left things strewn about."

The landlord was had a peculiar look about him for a moment before he caught himself and continued on.  
"Not to worry, it will go through full maintenance and housekeeping before it's leased again. Now, if you'll follow me."

Their voices trailed away and, a few minutes later, faded completely. They never even noticed the girl with bed-head, owl-print pajamas, and a busted old bat. Sarah collapsed back to the bed laughing.

How could she have forgotten her _Un-_day? Unlike the nonsensical, Carrollian Un-Birthday, Sarah's Un-day was a day that wasn't. That is, for one day, every year, Sarah Williams simply ceased to exist.

At first blush, a day without having to deal with responsibilities and others' expectations sounded wonderfully relaxing. And it was true that she could laugh about it in the relative safety of her own apartment; however, the reality was much more dangerous.

It wasn't just that she didn't exist; it was as if the world itself rejected her.

Friends and family didn't notice her. In fact, _no one_ noticed her. On the rare occasion that she could garner someone's attention, it was lost before any useful interaction could occur. Sometimes, she swore she caught the surprised glance of others that _saw_ her and were_ like_ her, but they always disappeared before she could engage them.

Her existence failure was not limited to the living. Her car declined to start on such an inauspicious occasion. Machines in general simply refused to function despite her best efforts. And after a very not imaginary, very difficult to put out toaster oven fire, she avoided them completely.

Every year, she was tempted to call upon the Goblin King- for assistance, or reassurance that she was indeed real, she wasn't entirely sure- but she was far too leery of the myriad of possible consequences. There was always the worse possibility that he would not show up at all.

Sarah was drawn back to the present by a cold, persistent tapping on her forehead. '_The spoon's back. Lovely._'

"If you're quite finished with your stroll down memory lane, there is much to discuss and time is short."

He _knew_. He had known all along. Hell, he was likely the cause.

She had long suspected that her yearly annoyance had something to do with the Labyrinth and its King, but suspecting and knowing were two completely different states.

Half of her wanted to rail at him for the injustice. Her other half was suddenly very tired. Both halves dimly noted that at some point when she hadn't been paying attention, Jareth had deigned to dress in normal clothes. '_Normal for him, anyway.'_

"You've tread a fine line, Overland and Underground, but today you made a wish."

'_So we're back to this, again.'_

"Point, Jareth? Are we approaching one?"

"It was _granted_, and not by the power of any Underground. Regardless, your wish altered the intended and necessary chain of events for today."

"And how does this tie in to you needing to rescue me?"

"You've strayed from the path and chosen a side, Precious-thing. You can no longer stay here, not if you desire to survive."

In keeping with every cliché of temper, Sarah slammed her hand on the table and exclaimed, "I haven't chosen anything!"

The look he gave her indicated that she was being deliberately obtuse. For her part, Sarah collapsed back against the chair.

"Quit making me feel like an idiot and just tell me what I've done."

"You were at a difficult age when you defeated my Labyrinth."

And then, in keeping with her limited knowledge of him, Jareth's explanation was circuitous and did little answer her question at all. '_What happened to time being of the essence?'_

"Adult mortals that return to the Over forget their time in the Labyrinth- or they are eventually taken by it. Children may remember, but over time, childish memory fades to fond dreams. But what of a girl too old to be turned into a goblin, yet too young to keep?"

'_Keep?! Like some sort of _pet_? That arrogant son-of-a'_ Her impending tirade was cut off by an airy wave.

"You are my champion, but humans cannot straddle two worlds indefinitely. The best I could do was give you time to find on which side of the line you would fall. Though, such magics have a price."

Sarah's eyes glinted with comprehension.

"My Un-day."

His mouth notched upward at hearing her term for it. Though, with the way he was radiating smugness, she could not decide whether this made him more attractive or less.

"An ingenious solution, if I do say so myself. Today, however, you defied your lot in life. Your maturity is no longer in question, and I wagered that you were always destined to be taken, which is why I am here to offer you an alternative."

"But why would you care either way? How could going back with you possibly be any better than being taken?" The last word felt strange on her tongue_. _"If I go with you, I'll just be giving up."

"The Labyrinth is something of a collector. Once taken, you lose yourself and become something else." His eyes became far away, if only for a moment. "You've met several afflicted by this blight. I, however, prefer you as you are. Mule-headedness and all."

"Beg pardon?" She had heard his words but was not entirely sure if she had been complimented or insulted._ 'Probably both,_' she decided.

And, then, he summoned a crystal. There was likely nothing that would set her fleeing faster, except, perhaps, certain fruits of the Rosaceae family.

"I will make you my queen. You are my champion, and you will fear nothing."

She could almost hear a trap clicking shut, and she _knew _that so much as touching that crystal would mean certain doom. It was the same old song and dance with new embellishment upon the melody. But then, if he thought that he could snare her using a tried and failed technique, he really needed to rethink his strategy. Or get new material.

"No. No, I'm not coming with you."

The defiant tilt of her chin likely spoke better than her words.

"You would damn yourself to spite me?"

The crystal evaporated into the nether-space.

"I appreciate the offer and the warning, but I- I can't. I refuse to give up."

His expression was equal measures of fury and despair. "On your head be it."

Jareth rose to his full height, cold and formal.

"You've less than three days before the illusion you created for yourself shatters. After that, be prepared to run."

"Will that help?" The words were out of her mouth before she could stop them.

His bitter laugh echoed long after he disappeared.

The Goblin King's visit bothered her. As it should, since he essentially told her she would be dead meat in a scant handful of days. But there was something more, she knew that there was something she was missing.

She pondered for a full two days and was only vaguely embarrassed when she found herself sitting in her cramped dining area, talking to the spoon she had not bothered to put away.

"He was trying to tell me something other than what he was telling me," she concluded. '_But what, exactly?'_

She bit at her thumbnail, and drew up a list, recounting what she knew.

1. For the love of all that is Holy, Jareth cannot be straightforward to save his my life!

2. He was also purposefully being an annoying, contemptuous, smarmy-assed git.

Perhaps it was better to focus on what he _said_. The important bits. After the part where he stole her ice cream. _'And put on actual pants.'_

3. The Labyrinth will take you.

4. The Labyrinth will change you.

'_No, thanks.'_

5. I prefer you as you are, stubbornness and all.

She crossed out number five and proceeded to six.

6. He never outright asked me to come with him.

This seemed important. She underlined it before moving on.

7. You've chosen a side.

'_But I _haven't.'

8. You made a wish.

'_So you say.'_

9. It was granted.

"Oh."

Sarah stared at the paper. The paper stared back.

"I made a wish, and he didn't grant it. And he wouldn't tell me who did."

Her list changed midstream.

_10. And he gave her certain powers._

11. I am the Champion of the Labyrinth.

The former was true, and the following was true because she had claimed it so, once upon a time.

12. We are equal.

And after a moment's hesitation, she pressed pen to paper once more:

13. I granted my own wish.

It was a bit of leap in logic, but she knew she had it right, once she scribbled it out.

She sagged in her seat. '_Seem to be doing that a lot lately.'_

Suddenly, a thought occurred to her. She once again consulted the spoon, "He never actually asked me to go with him; he let me assume that going with him was the alternative to being taken. But what if he wasn't really trying to convince me to go with him at all? What if he meant for me to make my own way?"

There was a chance that this was all some sort of insidious plot to get her to return to the Labyrinth. But it didn't_ feel_ like an insidious plot, and Sarah liked to think she had a wonderful intuition about that sort of thing.

But truly, if she could grant wishes, or her own wishes at the very least, what was there to prevent her from returning to the Underground on her own terms?

Sarah was never one to sit idly once she figured out a course of action. Therefore, it should come as no surprise that little more than an hour after finishing her list of revelations, she was calling upon the most infuriating being she had ever met.

"Jareth?"

She hoped she was right about this, just as she hoped that he was listening and would be there to guide her. If she was right, he would be, but for good measure, "I wish…"

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A/N: The inspiration for this came from Neil Gaiman's Neverwhere. Aaaand you've now reached the (openish) end of this little story. Congratulations!


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